


No

by Hypnobyl



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypnobyl/pseuds/Hypnobyl
Summary: After being rejected, Kara flees.





	No

Who knew a single word could be so destructive--that a simple syllable could split atoms. Her skin is impenetrable, but “no” makes her feel flayed open. She steels herself--she’s the Girl of Steel, after all--and smiles.

Wide. Bright. Sure.

She says something and turns away. She flies through the night sky, wishing for Rao’s guidance. But, like always, he is silent, and she is empty. Mindless, she soars, sometimes dipping low to taste the ocean’s spray and other times letting the tops of trees trace designs on her bare skin.

When she finally lands, the sun is shining, and she is both lost and alone. No matter, she knows, because she can listen closely and find the nearest civilization without problem. She doesn’t.

Instead, she folds her legs under her body and meditates in the dirt under the hot sun without purpose.She thinks about Alex, who has always deserved more than being her keeper. Eliza, who wouldn’t be a widow. James and Lucy, who would still be happily together. J’onn, whose identity would still be protected. Winn, whose heart wouldn’t have been broken.

And Cat, who wouldn’t have to deal with the unwanted love and devotion of her assistant. Who would have been happier never knowing the true extent of her feelings.

Supergirl has been a hero.

Kara Danvers has been a burden.

Later, she stands, selects a direction at random, and walks. She leaves herself in the desert.

She rents a room in the first town she encounters and finds work, lifting pallets and building offices. She cuts her hair. Buys new clothing. Settles in. Although the hurt is ever-present, she still smiles. She bears the weight of her decisions and tries to be kind whenever she can manage.

When she sees news articles about Supergirl’s disappearance, she mimics her new community’s somber acceptance. Assimilation may as well be one of her super powers. After a while, most media outlets have moved on, and Supergirl fades into memory. Kara Danvers, too, is laid to rest. She finds an obituary online.

Her entire life is summed up in a few sentences: She was a beloved daughter, sister, and friend who gave back to her community at every opportunity. She was survived by mother Eliza Danvers and sister Alexandra Danvers. There’s no body to bury, but they still held a funeral service at Hambledon’s Funeral Home in Midvale.

She doesn’t bother looking for herself again and doesn’t wonder why she’s been marked dead rather than missing in action. Maybe Alex knows she doesn’t want to be found. Or maybe they’re just relieved to be rid of her.

She adopts the name Ella Jorel and avoids making personal connections. If the people of this town find her strange, then she will do nothing to dissuade them. She is strange, alien even, and she doesn’t want to hurt them with her very presence. This life works for her, for awhile.

But then a worker falls off a beam some thirteen stories from the ground, and she can’t stop herself. She saves him.

The next day, she packs her meager belongings and walks. She doesn’t stop until thirst has dried her throat to dust. This new town won’t recognize a sun-beaten stranger. Still, she knows her heroism won’t go unnoticed. She keeps an eye on the local news.

Sure enough, the weekend edition praises a mysterious woman who caught James Brunson from a deadly fall. He knows her name, knows her as Ella, but he remains tight-lipped. Other outlets catch wind, and suddenly, the world wonders if there’s another superhero hiding in their midst. Just when the worst passes, and Kara thinks her secret is safe, a picture surfaces, snapped by another coworker just as she lowered James to the ground.

She looks at her weathered face and worries. She worries that someone back home will see through the changes, look under the dirt and sweat, past the hair cut and the increased musculature, and see her. She steals a hat from a sleeping man, buys some dark hair dye, and returns the hat to its rightful owner. In the safety of her rented room, she turns her hair black.

Brunette and pale, she tries to settle in again. The struggle is knowing she won’t be able to stop helping anyone who needs her. She’ll never be able to stay too long in any one location, not without fear of being found.

Her life was predestined for solitude. She’s been a nomad since thirteen, searching for a home that no longer exists. The only difference now is she knows there is nothing waiting for her. No home. No family. No normal life.

What she has now will be enough. She will help when she can but stay out of the spotlight. No one will get hurt on her behalf, and the last thing she needs is for someone like

For someone to name her. Give her advice. Make her feel safe and accepted and wanted. Reject her love.

And so it goes. She moves every month, shifting from town to town with a single suitcase and whatever money she has in her pockets. Only ninety more years, and then everyone she knows will be dead, and she won’t need to hide anymore. Until then, what she has now will be enough.

Except it isn’t. She’s hollow, and that emptiness makes her vulnerable. She checks on Alex the most, scrounging for whatever news she can find on the internet, but when she feels particularly masochistic, she looks up Cat’s latest exploits.

The headline reads: CatCo. CEO steps down, stock plummets. The article details Cat’s sabbatical from the company, along with her promise to return when she’s ready. There’s a picture of the media mogul, and Kara tries not to project her own feelings onto the image. She hates herself, but she’s worried about Cat. She has half a mind to fly back and fix everything. She almost does.

It’s just after dusk. She sits in her room on her knees and meditates. She calms herself with slow, even breaths and thoughts only of nothingness. She can hear crickets in the distance and the soft howl of the wind sneaking inside through the cracks. But also, she hears the sharp, jarring clack of footsteps nearing.

“Kara.”

Her name is spoken quietly. Reverently.

She looks up, unfists her hands from her thighs.

“You weren’t supposed to just leave like that.”

“Hurting you… It wasn’t my intention.”

Kara stands and moves to the window. She draws the curtains, her hand lingering on the smooth cloth. She waits.

“I don’t always handle emotional matters well.”

“But really, Kara, to run off and pretend to be dead?”

“Your sister. She’s been sleeping on my couch for months.”

“Max Lord claimed you were helping him with an experiment that went wrong. That your body had been incinerated. We thought you were dead.”

“But there was no mistaking you in that picture. Of course you’d help him.”

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“Why didn’t you let me explain?”

Kara checks her watch and determines she has a bit more time before she ought to prepare for bed. Physical labor isn’t as taxing for her as it would be for a mere human, but she still needs to rejuvenate, both in the sun and under the covers. She thinks about the long, tattered t-shirt that acts as her sleepwear and hopes to be alone by the time she puts it on. Her guest would never appreciate the fashion choice. Then again, there have been no digs about her current outfit, which consists of shorts, a black tank top, and a headband to keep her bangs from her face.

Despite her ragged, self-performed hair cut months ago, wisps of hair are already growing too long, and her roots are no longer dark. That must be how she was found--she let herself grow too comfortable and hadn’t done her usual maintenance.

“Kara, listen to me.”

“Kara, I’m sorry.”

She sits on the edge of the bed, deciding placidly between putting her dirty feet on the clean sheets or using the effort to rinse them off in the tub. She normally wouldn’t care, but with her guest, she’s second-guessing everything. She puts her feet up.

“Kara, please.”

“Even if you won’t acknowledge me, I need to say what I came here to say.”

“I said no because your government friend told me to.”

“I’d be at risk, he said. Carter would, too.”

“I let him scare me. I don’t let anyone do that, Kara. I don’t.”

Kara lays back. She traces patterns on the ceiling.

“By the time I knew what I wanted, you were gone.”

“Dead.”

“That’s what they told me. Alex didn’t believe Max.”

“There was no body.”

She wonders about what she will have for dinner the next day. Something easy to cook, as her small room’s amenities are sparse. She’s lived on boxed meals for weeks at a time, but she always craves fresh food.

“It broke me.”

“I left the company. I left because I needed to find you.”

“Dead or alive, I needed to know.”

“I left because I needed you.”

Kara glances at her guest and feels something in her chest for the first time in ages. She fights against it, fights against feeling anything again. Numb is safe and controlled. She likes numb.

“I’m likely too late to say yes, but Kara.”

“Kara, I want to.”

“If you asked me again, I’d say yes.”

Hot and unwanted, a tear trickles down her face. She sits up, runs a hand through her hair, thinks. She feels her heart pound, she smells the perfume swirling in the gusts of wind still howling through the cracks.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I love you, Kara.”

“Will you come home?”

She says, “Yes.”


End file.
